Papillon
by Pir8grl
Summary: Oh, look - I wrote another tag scene to The Name of the Doctor. :-)


The Doctor wearily left the control room, Clara's body clasped securely in his arms. "Please, Old Girl," he begged, "No messing about now. I need a room for Clara. She did introduce us, if you recall, so please be nice." Obligingly, the first door on the right slid open, and the Doctor stepped inside.

"Blimey…you've outdone yourself."

The furniture was clear-varnished wood, and the upholstery and linens were a warm claret red, accented with butterflies delicately embroidered in shades of copper, bronze, and gold. There was a well stocked bookcase and a comfortable recliner. Clara's red messenger bag and 101 Places to See book were set neatly on the desk, so that there would be no mistake just who this room had been created for.

"It's perfect," he whispered. "Thank you."

The Doctor laid Clara gently on the bed, then scanned her once more with the sonic. She hadn't woken since fainting inside his time stream, but that was all right for now. Rest was the best way for her mind to process all the information contained in her many, many lifetimes.

He sat on the edge of the bed, studying her face. Sleep lent her features an innocence and fragility that belied her true strength. He cupped her face in his hand, lightly stroking his thumb across her cheek, an unconscious mirror of her own gesture earlier. Acting on a sudden impulse, the Doctor bent and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Clara didn't stir.

The carving on the wooden headboard of the bed caught his eye. Whimsical swirls of butterflies were interspersed with the whorls of Gallifreyan writing. He smiled as he read the verses, then gave in to another impulse and recited them aloud. It had been far too long since he'd heard his own language spoken.

"What was that?" Clara asked sleepily.

"Hey…there you are," the Doctor murmured, smiling. He caught her hands in his own and kissed first one, and then the other.

"That was Gallifreyan, wasn't it?" Clara propped herself up on her elbows.

"Careful," the Doctor warned, catching her shoulders to steady her.

"I'm…**_so _**not all right," Clara conceded, sinking back down onto her pillows with his help.

"Ssh…it's OK…just give it some time."

Clara just looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Fine. All right. Bad joke."

Clara smiled up at him, then looked around, careful to move only her eyes this time. Any and all other body parts communicated instant distress at the very thought of motion. "Where am I?"

"Your room in the TARDIS."

"No way," Clara protested. "This can't be mine…she never lets me sleep in the same place twice…and once she tried to lock me in a storage cupboard! This is…**_beautiful_**."

"And she made it for you."

"Oh, my stars," Clara breathed. "Thank you."

The lights seemed to pulse for just a second, then receded back to their normal level.

"Did you see that, Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Did the TARDIS just wink at me?"

"Yes. I think she's decided you can stay."

"I'm right, though, aren't I? That was Gallifreyan you were speaking."

"Yes, it was Gallifreyan. Did you understand what I said?" he asked curiously.

"No…I know the sound of it, but the meaning sort of slips away," Clara answered regretfully.

The Doctor leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"You seem to be doing an awful lot of that today," Clara teased affectionately.

"Sorry," he said without a trace of apology, "can't seem to help myself."

"It's all right. I don't mind." Clara closed her eyes for a long moment, resting. When she opened them again, the Doctor was still staring at her intently. "You're very quiet."

"I…uh…I don't quite know what to say to you," the Doctor admitted.

"You, at a loss for words. Now I know we're in trouble."

"We **_were_** in trouble, but you fixed it. My Clara. My brave, clever Clara. No one has ever done anything like that for me."

Clara shook her head, remembering one of the most vivid personalities and events in the Doctor's long stream of lifetimes. "Rose-"

"Rose did what she did to save me…for love of me…and I will never, ever forget that, or her. But she didn't fully understand the consequences of her actions. You did. River told you what would happen if you entered my time stream. But you did it anyway, and I can't even begin to know how to thank you for that."

"You came back for me."

"How could I not?"

Silent tears began to trickle from her eyes.

"Clara, what is it? What's wrong?"

"It hurts," she whispered.

He scanned her again with the sonic, panicked and fully prepared to go anywhere, do anything, to make her well again.

"Not like that…the memories hurt. It hurt to die, all those times. Sometimes, it happened so fast, but others…"

Before either of them quite realized what had happened, the Doctor shifted around and pulled Clara onto his lap. Her head protested a bit at the sudden change of position, but she just closed her eyes and rested against his chest, lulled by the beating of his hearts.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. What else?" he prompted gently, knowing that she'd been deeply injured by all of this, and sensing that it was best to let the poison drain from her wounds as soon as possible.

Clara clutched at the arm that was wrapped tightly around her. "All of those me's…they had families, and it **_hurt_** to lose them." Her small body shook with sobs, and the sound just shattered him.

He cried with her as she poured out her grief for all those families who'd lost her. He'd had a taste of that inside his tomb, and it was so, so bitter. After a long while, Clara's tears were spent, and she drifted off again, secure in his arms. The man who never stopped running found himself surprisingly content to simply sit and hold her. He was toying idly with a small alabaster butterfly from the bedside table when he heard her voice again.

"How'd she know that I love butterflies?" Clara wondered.

"Well, you were connected to the telepathic circuits briefly," the Doctor mused. "But I was thinking…maybe the butterflies are meant to be a message to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I've always been so afraid to love…human lives are so brief, compared to mine. You're like the butterflies…you live so briefly, but so completely. I think, maybe, she's trying to tell me to stop worrying about how long I'll have you and just accept that you **_are_**."

"I know you don't like endings, but if you avoid beginnings, so that you won't have to face endings, then what's left?"

"Clever girl," he murmured, resting his cheek on top of her head.

"I'm here, Doctor, for as long as you'll have me. After everything we've been through today, how could I ever walk away?"

"I should tell you to run…but…I can't."

"And I wouldn't listen, anyway."

"No, you wouldn't, but you might be safer."

"If I wanted safe, would I have run away with a spaceman in a box?" Clara laughed.

The pressure in his hearts eased, and the Doctor found himself chuckling right along with her. "Oh, my Clara…"

"My Doctor," she replied, with just a touch of shyness, then laughed again at the wonder of being shy with him, after all this.

"How do you feel now?" he asked solicitously.

"Better. I'm still so tired, though."

His arms tightened around her. "That's to be expected. Anything else?"

"I'm sad that I can't remember how to speak Gallifreyan…I know…it would mean so much to you to have someone to talk to in your own language."

"I have you to talk to. That's all that matters to me right now. Can I get you anything?"

"I think I'd like to sleep again, if you don't mind."

The Doctor reached over to the lighting console on the bedside table. He flipped a switch and the main lighting dimmed. One more switch and a flight of butterflies was projected across the ceiling in soft amber light. "All right?" he whispered.

"Mmm. Doctor? What was that you were reciting before? The Gallifreyan, I mean."

"Well, your people would call it a nursery rhyme, or a lullaby, perhaps. It's a blessing for restful sleep."

"Say it again?"


End file.
